


Lovers' Quarrel

by StFrancisdeSales



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2701961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StFrancisdeSales/pseuds/StFrancisdeSales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angels can wing around the globe before a human will realize they're gone. So how can Dean explain the importance of his car, his Baby, to one so omnipotent, even if he's a close friend?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovers' Quarrel

Dean looked up from the cell in his hand and sighed heavily. He knew he had to do it, knew he couldn't leave things as they were. Sam was right; Castiel just didn't understand. If Dean wanted to end this... Whatever it was, he needed to explain. 

The tall, young man in jeans and a khaki shirt sat back on the lumpy motel bed and closed his eyes reluctantly. "Cas," he spoke aloud, feeling stupid, as he always did when he was forced to communicate with his angel friend through prayer. "Look man, I just need to talk to you. I feel like an idiot and I-" Stuffy air brushed his closed lids as Cas appeared by the window of the motel room.

"What," he stated, not appearing to care very much what Dean had to say.

Dean pushed himself to his feet and walked toward the man in the trench coat. "Look, Cas, I don't want to..." He trailed off as something occurred to him forceably. His jaw clenched and glanced down at the cell still clutched in one hand.

[Were fighting aren't we?] He sent to his brother. [Like a couple. Tell me the truth.]

Castiel turned and regarded Dean with a cool but baffled squint. There was none of the usual concern that filled his vessel's blue eyes. This time Dean had gone too far for too little a reason.

"You sound idiotic when you do not complete sentences," he said shortly. "What is it you want? My time is not unlimited."

"Yes it is!" Dean exploded. "You're immortal and you can't give me five minutes to..." He stopped himself, mediating his anger in a rare display of self-control. Balling his hands into fists, he took a deep and even breath. Looking up, the young hunter gazed levelly at his friend.

"You don't get it, about Ba- my car," he began, slowly, keeping his temper under control. His cell bleeped and he glanced down at it.

[Yeah, you are. How's it feel to be married?]

Silently he vowed to kick the smug snot out of his brother the very next time he saw Sam.

"But, would you let me explain?" He continued, keeping a tenuous grasp on his anger, after the text. Green eyes gazed almost pleadingly across at cool blue.

Castiel watched Dean, then nodded slowly. "Yes, explain," he said, calmly.

[You are so dead.] He replied to Sam as he fell into a chair.

The young hunter sighed and rubbed a hand wearily across his eyes. His broad shoulders sagged, as though the weight of every life on planet earth was his personal responsibility. He tried to remember what he had just told his brother.

Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the angel and started speaking, in a soft, gentle voice that seemed very unlike his usual sarcastic drawl.

"My car is a 1967 Chevrolet Impala. She isn't just a vehicle to me. She's more than a place to stash my sawed-off and get me from point A to point B."

Dean's voice changed as he continued, it became softer, he fought to keep it level.

"The night... My mom died, Dad sat both me and Sammy in the car and told us we had nothing. He told us we would have to make our way in the world with nothing more than we could keep in the car.”

There was a pause, as memories Dean kept tightly bottled up flodded his concious mind.

“My mother was gone, Dad was never the same after that night and Sammy was too little. All my hot wheels and comics were gone. My home was gone. But we still had the car. We drove all night and I knew I'd never feel at home anywhere else again."

His voice shook slightly, but he controlled it and went on.

"She was always there. Dad taught me how to look after her and I did. Even when he took off without me, I still had her. It was just me and her for a few weeks and I'm sure..."

He swallowed, looking up at Cas for the first time.

"I'm dead certain that if I hadn't had her, I'd be lost. She kept me in the here and now when everyone was gone. I had to look after my wheels." He nodded, jaw firm.

"I haven't always treated her right," he admitted, almost smiling as he recalled another memory wryly. "When Dad died, I was so mad..."

The bitter voice faded and he cleared his throat. "Shoulda seen the state of her. Trunk caved right in. I was an idiot." He shook his head.

"Then Sammy... Got knifed in the back by that psycho demon-man."

The deep voice of the experienced hunter nearly failed him and he lowered his eyes. Even now he avoided having to think about those hours he spent watching his dead brother lie motionless on the rusty bed frame.

"And Baby... She got me to that crossroads and she helped me bring him back. She came through for me, again." He smiled and nodded. "She's always there..."

"And I know I'm stupid for... Talking this way about a friggin' car," he said, standing up and pacing the room. "I get it. But she makes me feel like I can do something. When Sam and I screw something up on a job, when someone gets hurt, when the bad guy gets away... I can check her oil, clean our her carb, fill her tires and somehow it ain't as bad as all that."

Dean stopped pacing the floor and stood in front of Cas, looking at him calmly now.

"And no matter where I go, what God-forsaken hell-hole of a motel room I end up in, I know she's sitting right out there." He pointed through the limp curtains to a glint of black hood that could just be seen out the window. "Ready to take me anyplace I gotta go. She's my home, really. Even though I guess you could call me and Sammy homeless. We've got the Impala, and that's all we need."

He nodded again and sat back into his chair, glancing at his cell.

[Been there. Come on, you know I'm kidding.]

Dean's lips twitched and he glanced up at Cas.

The angel was regarding him stoically. He understood now. For Dean, the car was home and power and motivation and control all in one.

Castiel had watched humanity long enough to know that without those things, human beings often lost their minds in misery. As slow and redundant as it was, the car would have to stay.

"I do understand now, Dean," he began, compassion was back in his voice, caring in his eyes. "That car... She, is like heaven, to you."

Dean blinked in slight surprise, but nodded.

"Yeah," he said, with a small smile. "I guess you could say that."

The angel nodded, then paused, his trademark confused squint back on his face. "One thing still remains a mystery to me."

"Uh-huh, what's that?" Dean asked, strolling easily to the tiny fridge for a beer, glad to have this whole thing over with. Talking about his feelings, his past always made him feel dirty all over.

"Why do you refer to- the car-," there was a respect bordering on reverence in his voice now, "as if it were female? Even you must agree that any vehicle is devoid of gender."

Dean chuckled and shrugged, taking a swig of his bottle. "She's the only woman I trust in my life," he replied, enigmatically.

Castiel was still deeply confused, but did not press the matter further.

Out in the parking-lot, the Impala creaked as the engine cooled.

The headlights glinted knowingly in the setting sun and as the last rays of afternoon disappeared over the motel, it was almost as if a gust of wind from between the front wheels sighed.

"I love you, Dean."


End file.
